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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135026">Living Life In The Fast Wayne</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/teeslover/pseuds/teeslover'>teeslover</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alfred too, Bruce had to leave, M/M, The Waynes get their own show!, its way less petty and dramatic though, they simply cannot deal, yes I did just adapt the google summary of Keeping Up With Kardashians</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:00:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/teeslover/pseuds/teeslover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though things are always weird for the Wayne extended family in ways they never expected, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are determined to remember that family always comes first. Although the family members are frequently at odds, between siblings and their relationships, they always support one another in the end, through the good times and the bad.</p><p>(That’s right, they’re in a reality tv show!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Tim Drake &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>167</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Living Life In The Fast Wayne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The summary is honestly pretty bad :D What happens in this fic is just good ol' shenanigans! I hope I got all the characters right, or at least not too OOC. Damian's a bit tough for me, but hopefully, it's not too bad. Also, sorry if the breaks are a little confusing. I was trying to make it like The Office with jump cuts and everything.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Damian placed his pen in his mouth, ripping back the easy-open tab of the package. He had been stuck on a particularly difficult thought provoking essay question regarding Jean Paul Sartre’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>No Exit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so he thought he’d come down for a short break. He was really looking forward to eating the last few Oreos he had left when tragedy struck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The package… was empty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian bit down hard on his writing utensil, splitting it in half. He whirled around, his broken pen left forgotten on the kitchen floor, as the cameraman following him scrambled out of his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian burst into the living room, the package in hand. “Todd!!” he yelled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All three occupants currently on the sofas, as well as the four other crew members, turned to look at the source of the angry outburst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You!” Damian pointed an accusatory finger at Jason and threw the bright plastic at him, air resistance sending it drifting down several feet away from its mark. “You ate my Oreos!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, so?” Jason admitted nonchalantly, not bothering to look up from his phone. “It was taking up room, there were only two left.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“UUGHH!” Damian let out a roar and pounced on the offender with the swiftness of a house centipede that had just been spotted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damian!” Dick hissed, clambering to separate the two. “Damian, calm down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stay out of this, Grayson!” The youngest Wayne cried, futilely trying to push Dick out of the way. “You know mint Oreos are my favorite!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can just go get more!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m busy and I wanted them now!” Normally, Damian would have calmed down with the promise of a replacement, but with the presence of the cameras, it was a good opportunity to have an excuse to kick Todd’s ass, with the added bonus of having it recorded. “He took away my only source of happiness!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s your own fault for not finishing them in the first place! I have cravings too!” Jason yelled back, causing Damian’s attempts to increase in ferocity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick sighed, sending a pleading look behind him. “Jay…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, god!” Jason stopped grabbing for the smaller boy and straightened out his jacket. “I’ll go buy some right now.” He strolled out, grabbing his car keys by the entrance, slamming the front door behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian cleared his throat and walked off towards the stairs. “I will be in my room. Tell me when he returns.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need some ice cream.” Dick grumbled to himself, wandering off into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That... it’s- Daily occurrence.” Tim smiled awkwardly at the crew from his seat on the couch. They all seemed deathly afraid of even moving an inch, the camera shaking as its operator trembled. “Don’t worry about it.” Tim went back to his book. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was all Bruce’s fault. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His media liaison decided that it would be a good idea for the general public to see what the Waynes, extended family that they are, were like in their everyday lives. Something about empathy, allowing the billionaire(s) to be seen from a more human perspective, bullshit like that. Bruce then just happened to book the “documentary” crew on the week he had to go on a business trip (read: official League business (very important business that you don’t need to know about)) and Alfred was on vacation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so the four of them decided to stick around and make this little reality TV show, both as a favor to Bruce and so Wayne Enterprises could see how badly their idea was going to fail and never bother them again. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In one of the manor’s studies, lights and stationary cameras were set up towards the back, turning it into an effective confessional room. Two producers were currently sitting behind the desk, one watching through the monitor and the other positioning the camera. The one behind the camera gave his subject a thumbs-up, and hit </span>
  <em>
    <span>record</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Damian sat in the armchair, posture impeccable as always. “I don’t care for Todd. At all,” he divulged, looking straight at the camera. “And if it wasn’t for Grayson telling me not to kill him several times a week, I’d have done it a long time ago.” </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p>
  <span>A little while later, Jason arrived back at the manor, munching out of a bag of Flamin’ Hot Funyuns, a pack of mint Oreos under his arm. He stomped up to Damian’s room, pushed the door open and flung the package in, nailing the inhabitant in the back of the head. He yanked the door shut as Damian uttered an ‘ow’ and booked it back down to the living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim rolled his eyes at him, turning to the next page. “If you find a scorpion in your bed tonight, don’t come crying to us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pfft, I’ll just eat it in front of him to assert dominance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You say that like he won’t drop 20 of them on you at once.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... really?” Jason glanced at the camera with a look that said he might actually be slightly concerned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>“Damian’s such a fucking brat,” Jason proclaimed. He was sitting horizontally in the armchair, his legs dangling in the air. “Where did he even get all of those-! You know, I </span>
    <em>
      <span>really</span>
    </em>
    <span> wish I could kill him. And if it wasn’t for Dick’s obvious favoritism, I would do it! Without hesitation.” He paused, sighing as he stared out to the middle distance. “Can’t break his heart like that, though.”</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cameraman tensed up, looking over at his boss, eyes crazed. She smiled back, taking a sip of water. These boys were… Pure. Gold. Hello, Nielsen Weekly Top 10.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lounging around in the foyer, Dick stretched an arm around Wally, showing him his Etsy cart. “What about this one?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting Bruce a custom Superman teddy bear?” Wally settled in deeper against his boyfriend’s shoulder, taking the phone for a better look, then smirked. “Do you think he’ll sleep cuddling with this every night?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cameras pushed in further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, I wouldn’t know,” Dick hedged. He could practically see the internet headlines already.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Could Bruce Wayne’s favorite hero actually be Superman? His feelings about Gotham’s own Dark Knight revealed!</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But getting him a Super thing is, like, a tradition now.” Dick continued, scrolling down to his previous purchases. “See, last year, I got him this Superman mug, the year before that, a Superman quilt. Tim, on the other hand, once got him a Green Lantern nightlight. Guess which one he used for target practice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww, babe, you know him so well,” Wally snickered, handing the phone back. He dropped his voice down to a whisper, making sure the boom mic couldn’t catch anything. “You think I could get a little Nightwing bear?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apparently not.” Dick frowned at the page, emboldened with the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>No results. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I can get you the next best thing, though.” He leaned in to kiss him, only to be interrupted by a 13 year old popping in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grayson,” Damian called out as he descended into the lowered foyer. He stopped before the couch, the cameras catching a sneer directed at the red headed boy below him. “Oh, I forgot you were here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wally was not, by nature, a vindictive person… but something about this kid really annoyed him. He would never let it show, of course, because that something also kinda frightened him. “Hey, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should be asking you that, West, seeing as it is my house.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And my brother.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Damian let that second part go unsaid, his glare surely got the message across. “Anyway, Drake keeps trying to best me at that video game of his. I mean, it’s a party on a board game. We shaved ice and rode on tricycles. If he can’t figure out how to shake the controller well enough, that’s simply not my problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You love beating Tim at all his games, though.” Dick pointed out, grinning up at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but sometimes, I tire of being the best.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should take a nap then.” Wally blurted out, matching the intensity of the younger boy’s glare. “Because you’re tired.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great idea.” Damian plopped down on the side currently unoccupied, kicked his feet up onto the armrest, and dropped his head into Dick’s lap. He turned to his side and closed his eyes. “Do you mind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, guess not?” Dick looked down at Damian and chuckled, ruffling his hair. “You haven’t done this in a while.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian curled in tighter. “Well, I’m feeling nostalgic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next to them, Wally straightened up, jaw clenched. He stared into the camera, almost disbelieving, yet not surprised. The cameraman and the boom operator had very sympathetic looks on their faces. Resisting the urge to just kick the kid off, because Wally did, in fact, have somewhat of a survival instinct, he instead grit out, “I’m gonna see if Tim wants a little PvP action.” He gave Dick a quick peck on the lips, spun on his heel and left. </span>
</p><p>~~~<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>“That little gremlin.” Wally didn’t even bother to take a seat in the armchair, pacing back and forth in front of it. “He’s everywhere! Probably plotting my death! He’s like… like, ridiculously territorial or something! Seriously, there’s never any privacy!”</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>~~~<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, Dick sauntered into the main living room, having slowly edged out from under a sleeping Damian. He greeted Tim and Jason, engrossed in a boss fight, then looked around for Wally. Finding no one else there except the few crew members, he asked aloud, “where did Wally go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He had to run,” Tim supplied, mashing the trigger button. He flicked his eyes between the two cameras there, before continuing, “Barry called, something… urgent came up, I think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Dick said, looking a little crestfallen. “He didn’t say goodbye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe he wasn’t in the mood to get the deepest parts of his soul stared into,” Jason suggested, frantically reloading all of his character’s guns. “He said he’d call you later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, go back, what about his soul?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damian, duh,” Tim replied. “If Wally went back in there to tell you bye, he’d risk waking Damian up and getting stuck in a stand-off, then having to let him win. This way at least, Wally still has his dignity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dick asked, growing more confused with every word. “What are you talking about? What does Damian have to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim exchanged glances with Jason, then hit pause. “Umm, everything?” He looked up at Dick. “Haven’t you noticed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Off Dick’s still perplexed expression, Jason burst into laughter. “Dude, he’s cockblocking you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No, he’s not,” Dick insisted, choosing to ignore even the crew’s subtle nods of agreement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He literally just did it!” Tim couldn’t help but smile at the new revelation they had arrived at. “He interrupted you and fell asleep in your lap, then your boyfriend left. What else would you call it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm, brotherly bonding?” Dick hazarded a guess, though he didn’t even believe it as he said it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try possessiveness,” Jason countered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or he thinks you can do better,” Tim added. “Think about it. You’ve known Wally since you were 13, been friends for nearly a decade, then three weeks ago when things got serious, Damian is suddenly always around when he’s around?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick took a seat on the couch, trying to process everything he just heard. He placed his chin in the palms of his hands as he thought back. “Is this like when your cousin came to visit and I gave him the last of my Cinnamon Toast-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Damian tried to stab him with an ice pick?” Tim finished for him. “Yes, this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? He was eating cereal and Damian just-” Jason paused, miming a stabbing motion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, this was after he saw them making out in the Bentley.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, flex.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick shrugged. “It has the biggest backseat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, isn’t that the Mercedes?” asked Jason, having some experience in that compartment himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, that one’s the comfiest,” Dick assured him with a smirk. “But the armrest kinda gets in the way. Plus, you know, it’s smaller where the-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, I don’t need to know any more,” Tim cut them both off before continuing with their original point. “Anyway, he did all of that for a fling that lasted a week and a half. What do you think he's gonna be like with your BFF?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh my god, he's never gonna leave him alone… and maybe even kill him," Dick realized, anxiously chewing on a fingernail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It does look like it's going that way." Jason reached over to give him a pat on the back. "Come on, it can't be that much of a surprise. You are his favorite.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wrong, I hate you all equally.” Damian declared, as he joined everyone in the living room, covering a yawn.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Three hours ago, as he sat at the kitchen island, Damian bit into his burrito, staring into its fluffy egg interior. “I do care for Grayson,” he announced, seemingly just to himself. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Tim had been at the fridge at that moment, handing Jason a bottle of water. The two of them looked at each other, bewildered, then at a camera. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Thank god they got that on tape.</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian rubbed at both eyes, then glanced around the room. “Oh, did West leave? That’s a bummer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you... want him to stay?” Dick asked, a bit of hope seeping into his tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I much prefer him at a distance. Whenever he’s around, I just notice his mediocrity even more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick glanced at Tim and Jason, both of whom looked rightly smug, then turned back to Damian. “Are you like this with Kon, too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian raised an eyebrow. “Who is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha-? Kon- Conner! Tim’s…” Well, Dick wasn’t really sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was, so just to be safe. “Person. He was just here yesterday!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I care about him, why?” came Damian's response as he left for the bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason resumed the level. “Told you so.”</span>
</p><p>~~~</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>“Do you ever get a little jealous that Damian prefers-” The producer started to ask when Tim came in, before he swiftly set her straight.</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>“Absolutely not!” Tim cried, sitting on his knees in the armchair, fingers crossed behind his head. “I don’t like Damian, and I know he doesn’t like me, but as long as we don’t piss each other off, we don’t have to worry about revenge plans and we can all silently co-exist in this house when Dick’s not around. It’s a win-win.” He then glanced over at Dick, who had come in with him. “What do you have to say for yourself?”</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>“Ok, I swear I’m usually better at noticing stuff like this.” Dick was sat in the chair across, legs crossed, and steepled his fingers in thought. "Well, I’ll just have to force them to like each other.”</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the garden, Tim leaned on his elbows, tilting his head back onto the surface of the granite bench. Jason then followed suit from his spot on the other side of the bench. Their heads now laid parallel to each other, staring up into the clouds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having partaken in a bit of, mmm… weed, the two of them droned on about several meaningless (or maybe -ful) things, most of which the cameras were not that riveted to capture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did I ever tell you about this one dream I had?” Jason drawled, fingers flicking through the grass blades. “Well, it was a nightmare, really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tim replied. “Wait, no… I don’t know. Tell me and I’ll tell you if you’ve told me it before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh… so you know that one scene from Psycho? When the guy is in his raincoat and all the furniture is covered and he has an ax and murders his coworker? It was that, except it was Alfred.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You killed dream Alfred!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, he had the ax!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you think it means?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s gonna lose it one day and ax murder us all,” came Tim’s reply. “Or it was just a dream, didn’t mean anything. Wait, that never happened in Psycho.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t it? My dream was all in black and white and I feel like it was really screechy…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” Tim asserted. “I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of American Psycho.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The movie you’re thinking of. Christian Bale’s in it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll watch it tonight. I think you’d get a real kick out of it, Jay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a bit of silence, then Jason said, “what are we watching?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“… I don’t remember.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The culmination of Dick’s grand plan to get Wally and Damian to at least halfway tolerate each other was this: a game of Uno.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick, Wally, Jason, Tim, and Damian sat (in that specific order) in a circle on the floor in the living room, taking turns in a clockwise direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, so 7s mean you can switch hands with anyone you pick, 0s rotate hands to the left, we stack +2s, you can challenge +4s, but if you’re wrong, you draw 6 cards,” Jason had explained as Tim dealt the cards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Wally’s mouth hung open slightly, eyebrows knit in confusion. “When did they make these rules?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll catch on.” Tim reassured him, riffle shuffling once more, then set the deck down in the center. He flipped one card over, revealing a yellow 4. “Oh, and no jumping in! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> ruined that for us last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Tim, that was you,” Dick pointed out, picking up his cards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to bring it up!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damian, start us off!” Tim was quick to interrupt, gesturing for the youngest there to throw down his card.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, can I get a turn! Who shuffled this? Why are there so many skips!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uno!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha! You thought! Hand it over!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, gonna have to hit you with that reverse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NOOO, whhhyyy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit, you have something other than a +4!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Read ‘em and weep! Draw six, bitch.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do I have fifteen cards in my hand?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eight blue cards in a row? Who shuffled this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’m saying!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew we should’ve just played Overcooked 2.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After several frustrating rounds, they all agreed the one they were on would be their last. Dick had 3 cards left, Damian had 1 and Wally, Jason, and Tim had 4 each.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe we’ve been playing this stupid game for 45 minutes and Dick’s won every single time!” Jason shouted in exasperation as he pulled up another red number, then another, before finally receiving a blessed wild card. “Thank you! Red.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, get on my level,” came Dick’s retort as Wally casually placed a red 0 down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, in the middle of passing over their cards to the next person, Damian lost his shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, you are absolutely worthless!” The smallest boy erupted, snapping his wrist to flick his one last card at the redhead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha- Hey!” Wally protested as the card whizzed past his ear, flying at a remarkably high speed. “What’s your problem, man?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> are my problem, West! I was about to win and you just had to barge in and ruin it! Like you ruin everything!” He lunged forward, grabbing up a few more cards to throw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damian!” Dick scolded, jumping up to defend, sending disapproving glances towards Tim and Jason as they backed away to make themselves scarce. “Relax!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Damian refused, trying to maneuver around the taller man. Damn it, he wished he didn’t let Alfred convince him to store his sword so the show’s crew wouldn’t be afraid to approach him. It’d be great to have right now to strike fear into West’s heart. “I’m sick and tired of him always being here! I’m gonna kill him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m not exactly your biggest fan, either, you little…” Wally trailed off, blanking at an insult.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell spawn,” came Jason’s immediate suggestion. Tim stifled a snort next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell spawn!” Wally repeated. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohh, needing to steal someone else’s insult? Just what I would expect from someone with no soul!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Haha, because I’m ginger?” Wally chuckled derisively. “That’s cute, a joke from 2010? I’m surprised you know that, were you even alive back then!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least I’m not 25 and still known as my uncle’s sidek-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok!” Dick interrupted, putting up both hands to put some distance between them and the cameras that were edging ever closer. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “You guys are giving me a tension headache.” He turned to Wally and took one of his hands in his own. “Can I talk to you for a second? Privately?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, yeah,” stammered Wally, letting himself get led to the empty office across from the living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick narrowed his eyes at everyone else still sitting among the Uno cards, warning them not to follow him, as he closed the wooden doors shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as the dual doors clicked, the three boys sprinted over and pressed their ears to the wall. The crew followed closely behind, one of the operators silently kicking herself for neglecting to mic that room. Luckily, it seemed like the younger Waynes had the hearing abilities of bats, as they shushed each other, engrossed in listening in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are these doors so thick?” Tim complained in a distressed whisper. “I can barely hear them!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, I think Dick’s talking,” Jason whispered back, practically flattening himself against the door. “Oh my god, are they breaking up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Damian cried out, only for Jason to shush him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re right, Jay.” Tim said a few seconds later, having grabbed a glass from the kitchen, now pressed to the door to hopefully amplify the sound. It was like a scene straight out of a Nickelodeon TV show. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are they saying?” Damian asked, grabbing for the cup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh, shh!” Tim swatted him away. “Dick just said he can’t choose between Wally and… his family. Now, Wally’s saying somethi-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doors were then promptly ripped open, sending the three eavesdroppers tumbling in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we were just-!” Jason started to come up with an excuse, before seeing the pained expression on Wally’s face as he shuffled out of the office and headed for the front door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim peeked into the room. Dick sat sullenly in the far corner, hunched forward with his head in his hands. “Damian,” he accused, joining Jason in glaring at the youngest, “this is all your fault!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I didn’t- I…” Damian stuttered, before letting out an exasperated groan. “Ugghh, just- hold on!” He ran out the front door, a cameraman hot on his heels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“West!” Damian yelled out, banging on the redhead’s car window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wally just rolled his eyes and turned the key in the ignition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! I will break your windshield!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wally huffed in the driver’s seat, before choosing to get out and confront him. “What, Damian! You got what you wanted, I’m not gonna be around anymore! You gonna try to kill me? Go ahead! It’d probably hurt less!” His voice cracked on the last word, and upset at letting his vulnerabilities show, he slammed the door shut in frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, can’t you just… work things out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you can go back to threatening me at every corner? Yeah, no thanks!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t…” Damian, to his credit, was visibly in turmoil. “I’ll try to- not do that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wally scoffed, leaning onto his car. “Why do you hate me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, because you’re just like this with everyone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Damian exclaimed. “Well, not everyo- I mean,” he stopped to take a deep breath. “It’s not just you, West, it’s… all of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All of who? Dick’s exes? I don’t understand why-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because they leave!” Damian shouted back, recoiling at his own weakness at letting that slip out. Still, he continued. “They leave and Richard deserves someone who won’t break his heart every time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what, now the goal’s to scare all of his new lovers away?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, before he can get too attached.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, that’s ridiculous... And not at all what I expected.” Wally was at a loss for words, but he bravely ventured on. “So, I mean, are you gonna protect him forever? That’s not really fair to either of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t mind,” Damian replied quickly, then sighed at Wally’s criticizing stare. “It’s… different with you. You have been his best friend for years, you lived together, you still work together, so when you break up, what happens then? He won’t have anyone to… watch his back if he’s not in Gotham.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa,” Wally circled his car, getting within a comfortable distance of the proclaimed gremlin. “Even if we do break up-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If. You said it yourself, we’ve been friends for years. And it would stay that way, I would never abandon him! Come on, it’s Dick. He’s still friends with his exes, he’s even friends with his exes’ boyfriends and girlfriends!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian considered this for a moment, knowing he was correct. Grayson really was just that charming. “Promise?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the first time, Wally saw the kid for what he was: a concerned little brother. “Yes, I promise. I will try to be everything he deserves… and more.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though Damian didn’t quite smile, he did look substantially less tense. “Then I approve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, seriously?” Wally cracked a smile, ready to rush back into the manor as soon as he had explicit confirmation. “You’re ok with us, you’re not gonna be watching my every move anymore?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tt- for now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll take that!”</span>
</p><p>~~~</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>“All according to plan.” Wally smirked as he fist bumped Dick.</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>The producer, in the middle of tweaking some edits, looked up in surprise. “Wait, that was all… planned?”</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>“Yeah, it was Wally's idea. We both knew Damian was never going to leave him alone,” Dick admitted, “and though I feel pretty awful about it, guilt is a powerful thing.”</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>“Hey, it worked! But, umm,” Wally bit his lip, moving to sit in the chair beside his boyfriend. “He is a good brother. And I made him a promise that I have every intention of keeping.” </span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>Dick tilted Wally’s head up, smiling as they shared a kiss.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>~~~</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, Damian shortly figured out their little scheme by intimidating a crew member into showing him their confessional. He had to see what was said about him, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>“I still don’t like West,” Damian said as the camera settled on a closeup. He folded his hands under his chin. “But I can respect him.”</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>After several weeks, the show had finally finished filming and, within a few more days, the producer had a preview ready for them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what do you guys think?” She paused at the end credits, standing up to address everyone gathered in the living room. “The network is very happy with what we have. Once ratings come in next week after the premiere, I think we’re looking at a possible green light for season 2!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As all the boys, and even Alfred, voiced their various objections, Bruce was quick to tamp that down. “Whoa, Anna… maybe that’s a discussion for another day? You’ve produced a great show, though, I have no doubt it’ll be a success.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you, Mr. Wayne, but all the thanks should go to you guys! The chemistry between you all… you can’t get that just anywhere!” Anna beamed at them, removing the USB from the widescreen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what’s the show gonna be called again?” Tim piped up, noticing the ending title screen before it was blacked out. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Waking Up With The Waynes</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we still have time to change the name if you’re not happy with it.” She pulled out a small notebook and pen, ready to write. “What did you have in mind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just a little…meh? We can do better. What about… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Making it Wayne</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s even worse, Drake, honestly.” Damian dismissed the name with a wave of his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, ok, why don’t you come up with something then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wayne Manorisms</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Damian replied plainly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason nodded his head from his spot on the loveseat. “Mmm, that is better, Timmy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Tim knew it was a good pun, though…. but not nearly as catchy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anna wrote both suggestions down anyway. “These are good, anything else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about,” Wally interjected, shifting to drape an arm over Dick’s shoulders, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Living Life in the Fast Wayne?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick hid a laugh behind his hand, the speedy reference not lost on any of them, except for Anna… who circled the name a couple times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ooohh.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did I just reference my own fic up there?? I sure did! Tim is talking about Bobby Drake (Iceman from X-Men), his crossover cousin, from my fic: Hey stranger, I want you to catch me like a cold. Give it a read if you feel like it! You'll notice a few similarities to this one... hehe.</p><p>By the way, names that didn't make the cut: Gotham Elite, Wayne For the Win, Wayne in the Fast Lane :D which one's your fave?</p><p>Thanks for reading!! Drop a comment if you want and 'til next time!</p><p>...Same bat-channel ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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